


Let's Talk About Sex...

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Series: Let's Talk About Sex [1]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Humor, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lincoln wriggles his eyebrows and says: “Confession time!” everybody thinks it’s a great idea. (Post-series, alternate canon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Talk About Sex...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for challenge #3 at pbhiatus_fic with the prompt “Let’s talk about sex, baby.”

They probably have been drinking a bit too much. Well, except Sara who doesn’t drink at all, but Sara is high on sugar (she’s quite addicted to M&M’s, which is less messy than being addicted to morphine, she guesses), and the outcome is not better than if she had been doing tequila shots. So, when Lincoln wriggles his eyebrows and says: “Confession time!” everybody thinks it’s a great idea, including Sara.

And even Sucre.

That is, until the moment he realizes all eyes are converging on him. He fumbles in frenzy with his glass and finally blurts out: “I... I... I’ve waited ‘til I met Maricruz.”

Lincoln laughs; Jane rolls her eyes upwards; Michael stares. Maricruz’s judgment is slightly impaired by her state of drunkenness, so she opens her eyes wide, and a hint of panic shows up on her face. Sara gobbles an M&M’s and says: “Quit fucking kidding us, Fernando, and be a man!” This is what everybody is thinking – although Michael wouldn’t probably have worded it that way.

“Wimp,” Lincoln sneers.

“Yeah, Sink? You’d rather I make up stories about what was going on once the damn sheet was up?”

“You mean, they were nothing but stories?” Sara says, mimicking disappointment. Or astonishment. Or a mixture of both.

Sucre whimpers something like: “Not you too, Doc’...”

* * *

“I’ve used... you know... stuff on Fernando. Of the vibrating kind.”

“Mami!” Sucre protests with a hurt expression.

“Sorry, baby, but it’s the truth.”

“You’re supposed to confess something about _you_.”

“Yeah, ‘Nando,” Jane sarcastically interjects, “you can say because you really went along with the game.”

“Oh, OK, then.” Maricruz smiles. “I let Fernando use stuff on me.”

Sucre throws his hands up in the air with a disgusted groan. Sara soothingly pats him on the shoulder and shares some of her M&M’s with him. He deserves them, poor thing.

“Just tell me if you need any medical help, Fernando,” she offers with a smirk.

Sucre slouches down on the table and whines.

* * *

“I slept with both a father and his son,” confesses Jane. “Not... you know... not at the same time.”

Everybody freezes, except Lincoln who visibly flinches and turns white.

“This isn’t funny,” he whispers.

“No, it isn’t,” she admits. “Nobody said it has to be funny. Aldo was important to me.”

There’s a long, awkward, heavy silence. In the end, Michael reaches out for his brother and gently squeezes his arm.

“Come on, Linc, everybody knew.”

“ _Everybody_?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was pretty obvious...”

He shrugs and seeks Sara’s eyes for support. With a sigh, she plunges her hand in her bowl of M&M’s, grabs a large handful and lays it in front of Lincoln. At this rate, she’ll be out of munitions sooner that she would care for.

* * *

“I had sex with a woman.”

Sara would swear she can hear Sucre’s neck cracking when he abruptly looks up, and feel a small breeze when Lincoln turns his head towards her at lightening speed. Jane lifts an eyebrow high on her forehead and ogles her with – a weird, very weird, Michael thinks – interest. Maricruz smirks at their reactions but doesn’t forget to elbow Fernando, and Fernando obediently closes his mouth.

“I had this dream once, you know,” Lincoln muses out loud, and Michael glares at him. “Back in Fox River,” he amends. “Before you...”

“It’s not your turn yet, Linc. Shut up.” Michael helps himself to the M&M’s bowl, because, well... “You... um?”

“College experiment. So not original, isn’t it? You want me to elaborate?” She smiles at him, and his cheekbones grow a bit red.

Four pairs of eyes are watching them, and no one is bothering to hide their curiosity, so Michael wisely answers: “Maybe later.”

Sure thing.

* * *

“... movie theater, a car parked on Michigan Avenue,” Lincoln enumerates while counting on his fingers. “... a restaurant bathroom...”

Sara hums approvingly, Michael frowns at Lincoln, and Lincoln thinks it’s highly unfair that is brother frowns at _him_ because his own girlfriend has a thing for sex in restaurant bathrooms. It’s not like he can do anything about it – well, he could do something about it, but it would probably piss off Michael beyond belief. Not to mention Jane. And these are two people he doesn’t want to piss off, they don’t deserve it.

“Of course,” Michael snorts. “And on a bench in the park, in a lobby, in a booth at the swimming pool...”

“Nah, not at the swimming pool. You know I can’t stand the smell of chlorine. Kills the mood.”

“... up against the wall in a dark alley...,” Michael resumes.

“Oh yeah,” Jane lets slip with a breathless moan and a dreamy expression on her face.

“Too much information,” Sucre protests.

There’s a common agreement regarding that complain: “Wimp.”

* * *

“I have been in a threesome, once.” Michael lowers his voice and adds: “Or twice.”

Lincoln spatters his tequila right in front of him, and Sucre barely manages to duck in time and avoid being spit on.

“Classy, Lincoln,” Michael criticizes with his best stern tone.

“No, you haven’t!” Sucre is so scandalized he could almost – almost – get over the spiting; he will address that later. Right now, he’s elbowing Maricruz, but he doesn’t seem to have as much influence on her as she has on him, because she keeps staring at Michael.

“Man / woman ratio?” asks Sara, businesslike. Because this kind of thing can make all the difference, huh?

“I won’t answer that.”

Sara and Jane grin and chorus, as if they were synchronized: “Two men.”

Michael stares at them. “Why do you assume...”

“Honey,” Jane cuts short. “ _No_ man... not even you... would refuse to kiss and tell if the answer was ‘two women’.”

“Lady has a point, Fish,” Sucre acknowledges.

Lincoln pours himself another tequila shot. Jane is carefully watching Michael, and Lincoln growls: “Don’t look at him like that, it won’t happen again.”

“No worries.” She smiles sweetly. “I was just wondering who the other man may have been.”

* * *

They really have been drinking a bit too much, and with a stroke of luck, they won’t remember everything that has been disclosed.

Well, except Sara. That’s the good side of being high on sugar rather than on alcohol. She gobbles a few more M&M’s and starts making mental notes.

FIN


End file.
